


Vanguard Discipline

by Littleshebear



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Bondage mention, Choking mention, Consensual Kink, Discipline, Enthusiastic Consent, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Humour, Porn with Feelings, Shameless Smut, Smut, Spanking, Voice Kink, humorous porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-24 01:48:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17695298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Littleshebear/pseuds/Littleshebear
Summary: Vanguard Discipline is a great name but a terrible shader so I decided to do something with it. This is the first Zavala/Hawthorne piece I ever wrote, over a year ago. Not sure why I jumped straight into the kinky smut first but that's how it went.Zavala and Hawthorne meet up for some, supposedly, no-strings sex but Suraya suspects that there might be feelings developing. This is kinky, please heed the tags.





	Vanguard Discipline

“Don’t look at me like that.” Hawthorne admonished Louis. The falcon cocked his head and trained his beady eyes on her. He was judging her, she could tell. People might say that birds of prey weren’t capable of those types of complex emotions, but those people didn’t know Louis.

“We’re consenting adults and there’s nothing wrong with us having a little fun. There’s nothing sordid about it.” She folded her arms and nodded emphatically but had to admit to herself, it was a bit sordid. Oh, who was she kidding? Arranging to meet Zavala in his quarters for sex was entirely sordid, that was part of the appeal but there was something oddly civilised about it too. Up until then, their couplings had been unplanned, spontaneous but now City life was returning to something resembling normal, scheduling was becoming more important. That was such a Zavala thing to do, even the more torrid aspects of his daily life needed to organised. She found herself wondering what his diary must look like:

09:00-11:00: Consensus meeting.   
11:30-13:00: Titan workshops.  
13:00-14:00: Lunchtime crochet class.  
14:00-17:00: Strike duty.  
17:00-18:00: Dinner.  
18:00- ???: Screw Hawthorne.

“Okay,” she said to Louis, who was still staring at her unblinkingly from his perch. “I’ll be back later. Seriously. Stop looking at me like that.”

She made her way out of her apartment and through the bazaar towards Zavala’s quarters. She pulled the hood of her poncho as far forward as it would go, not wanting to meet anyone’s gaze. If anyone asked why she was going there, she’d say Zavala wanted to discuss clan business with her. It wouldn’t entirely be a lie, that’s probably what it would turn into anyway. Zavala’s prowess in bed was undeniable but his pillow talk needed some work.

The closer she got to Zavala’s place, the more Hawthorne felt like her stomach was doing somersaults. This felt different. She told herself that scheduling didn’t mean commitment, it was just organisation. This was hardly a date, it was far too seedy for that.

Then there was the chat that they’d had about Guardians’ attitudes to the physical act of love, how it could become passe for an immortal so it was important to vary things, keep it fresh. She’d said she was game and at the time, she was. Besides, it was more interesting to talk about that than how Future War Cult was trying to ring fence funding to stop Dead Orbit from…something. She couldn’t remember. Listening to Zavala explain why immortality tends towards the kinky was a far, far more engaging topic of conversation. She knew he wouldn’t make her do anything she wasn’t comfortable with, that she could back out at any time, that she would be in control at all times. He was far too polite, far too respectful to act any other way. Still, she was a bundle of nerves when she arrived at his door. She took a deep breath, exhaled slowly and rang the bell.

When he called her in, Zavala was sitting behind a desk in the corner of his living room, working on something (was he ever not working?). He threaded his fingers together and rested his chin on his hands.

“Evening.” He regarded her silently for a second or two, as if trying to gauge her mood. “How are you?”

“I’m good,” she replied, shrugging with studied nonchalance.

“You still want to do this?”  Straight to business, then. How very direct. How very Zavala.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” She watched him step out from the desk. He’d changed out of his bulky armour, he was just wearing the black and red undersuit. She could discern the outline of his muscles under his clothing as he leaned against the desk, folding his arms. Yes, she was definitely here for this.

“You’re sure?” His eyes were fixed on her. She pushed her hood back and met his gaze in a show of confidence. There was no reason to be nervous, she told herself. They’d discussed what would be on or off the table, it wouldn’t be anything too extreme. Besides, she couldn’t deny how his attentiveness put her at her ease.

_So serious_ , she thought, feeling a swell of affection for him while another voice at the back of her mind reminded her that this meeting was just about sex, nothing more

“I’m sure,” she insisted with a grin. “Word of warning, I’m just not sure I’m terribly submissive is all.”

“It’s good to try new things. You never know, you might just enjoy it.” Zavala smiled one of those tiny smiles that were restrained for most but effusive when coming from him. “You said you liked it before. When I, and I quote, took charge.”

“What if I don’t enjoy it this time?”

“Pick a safeword. You say the safeword, that’s it, I stop, scene’s over.”

Hawthorne smirked, placing a hand on her hip. “Think you’ll be too much for me, Guardian?”

“Suraya…” He’d gone all serious again. “I mean it. This is important.”

“Fine!” She sighed, casting her eyes heavenward. “Okay, uh…” She shrugged then said, “How about EDZ?”

“EDZ. You’re sure? It has to be something you don’t need to think about, something that would spring to mind without any effort.”

“Ee. Dee. Zee. I got it, Guardian. So…” Hawthorne, sidled up to Zavala, running her hands up his chest. “What did you have in mind for me? You gonna tie me up?”

Zavala stepped away from her, everything in his body language suggesting that her attempts at seduction were having no effect whatsoever. He picked up a file from a side table and started leafing through it.

“You’re going to read to me?” She asked, raising one incredulous eyebrow. She’d been promised a Guardian’s idea of playtime and this didn’t seem very fun. “What is it?” She asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

“It’s your rap sheet.”

“My what?” She gasped, eyes widening. “Where did you? How..? Why..?”

“In order,” Zavala begins calmly, “It’s your criminal record. I got it via some of Devrim’s old contacts in City law enforcement-”

“I’m gonna kill him.”

Zavala snapped his fingers in her direction, “Don’t interrupt, it’s very discourteous.” He took a seat on a couch before continuing, “How? I’m the Vanguard Commander, I don’t need to ask twice to access information like this. Why? Because it makes for very interesting reading and let’s just say, I have some concerns.”

“What sort of concerns?” She asked, folding her arms.

“First of all, if this arrangement is going to work, you’ll address me as Sir.”

Hawthorne’s lips threatened to twitch up into a smile but she quickly assumed a deadpan expression. She supposed this was Zavala’s way of telling her it was time to get into character.

“What are you concerned about?” She paused, unable to resist  shooting him the tiniest of knowing smirks. “Sir.”

“If you’re to not only remain in the City but take a leading role in its affairs, I need to know that this,” he held up the file, “won’t happen again. You’ve never been one for following the rules. You need to learn some discipline.”

“Yes sir.” Hawthorne knew it was just a game but the way he fixed his stare on her made her heart beat faster, her breathing shallow.  He was too good at this, so she began to wonder how much of it really was an act. She raised her chin slightly, a small act of defiance. I’m not afraid of you, Guardian. “What did you have in mind?”

“Lose the poncho,” he ordered.

Hawthorne did as she was told and pulled the loose garment over her head and tossed it onto a nearby armchair.

“And the rest,” Zavala added.

She felt the heat rise in her face at this order. It wasn’t like they hadn’t been intimate before but there was something  nerve wracking about undressing while someone else watched, especially when that someone was still fully clothed and maddeningly impassive. She opted for the easy stuff first, she kicked off her boots and then took a moment to consider how remove her socks. There was no alluring way to remove socks. She sat down on the chair she’d thrown her poncho on to and pulled the offensively unsexy garments off her feet.  

“Did I say you could sit down?” Zavala asked, his voice still as calm as ever.

“No Sir,” Hawthorne answered dutifully.

“Stand up,” said Zavala before nodding towards her as indication that she should continue.

Hawthorne got back to her feet, unbuttoned her trousers and peeled them off as slowly as she dared. She then took her top off, leaving her in just her underwear. She supposed Zavala meant her to take off everything, so she set about removing the bands that kept her hair in a neat braid at the nape of her neck. She loosened her hair out over her shoulders before dragging one hand down her neck, then her chest, taking a moment to pause at the swell of her breast. Hawthorne fancied that this caused the tiniest crack to appear in Zavala’s facade. An appreciative flash in his eyes, maybe, or his breathing got faster. There was  _something_ , for certain. The file was sitting in his lap, she wondered if he was getting hard under there. She kept her eyes fixed on his face as she rolled a thumb in circles over her nipple, feeling it harden beneath the fabric of her bra.

“That’s enough,” he intoned. “Come here.”

She sauntered over to him and asked, “Where do you want me?” He placed the file on the seat beside him before taking her by the wrist and pulling her down so she lay across his lap. Hawthorne propped herself up by her elbows on the adjacent seat.

“You gonna spank me?” She found it hard not to giggle at the thought, feeling faintly ridiculous at the thought of her, a grown, extremely capable woman lying spread-eagled across Zavala’s lap in nothing but her smallclothes.

“Do you think you deserve it?” He started running his hands lightly down her back, then over her buttocks. Hawthorne shivered slightly as gooseflesh sprang up under his fingertips.

“Probably…” She sighed, arching into his touch before moaning softly when his thumbs trailed down her inner thighs. “I  _am_  a naughty girl.” She gave in to the giggles that had been threatening when his hand trailed over backs of her knees.

“Ticklish?”

“A little.” She bit her knuckles to prevent any more laughter escaping. She didn’t think ‘Sir’ would appreciate that, this being such serious business and all.

“I’ll have to remember that,” said Zavala, Hawthorne suspected that there was a little amusement leaking into his voice too. He ran his hands back up her legs, working one between her thighs. He pressed his thumb against the gusset of her panties. “This wet already? Eager little slut, aren’t you?”

“Mm-hm,” was the only response she could manage, Zavala’s uncharacteristically crude language causing yet more heat to pool in her loins. She pushed against his hand as he stroked her through the, by now, damp fabric. She suddenly started feeling self-conscious about what was left of her attire. There was nothing remotely sexy about her underwear, it was like the rest of her clothing; plain, simple, utilitarian. Not the sort of thing to wear to a sex game. She was suddenly yanked out of her sartorial anxiety when she felt a hard smack against her bottom.

“Answer the question.”

“Oh!” Hawthorne exclaimed. She hadn’t been expecting that just yet. She just lay there, bemused, feeling her skin tingle where the blow had fallen. She gasped when he spanked her again, shocking her out of silence. “Ah! Yes, yes Sir, I am.”

“Pay attention when I’m speaking to you.” He grasped her panties and pulled them up into the cleft of her ass, exposing more skin and causing the fabric to press into her clit. She rocked her hips slightly, increasing the friction.

“I am paying attention! You’re distract- Ow!” Her protests were cut off by another smack, this time without the scant protection that her underwear had afforded, then another, harder than before. She screwed her eyes shut and exhaled slowly, finding that concentrating on the sensations made them more bearable somehow.

“I’ll pay attention from now on, Sir,” she promised through gritted teeth.

“There. That wasn’t so hard was it?” He released his grip on her underwear and resumed that soft stroking of her skin. He pushed aside the fabric of her panties easily, it being completely stretched out of shape. He rubbed his fingers down her slick sex, grazing them lightly over her clit and up again. Hawthorne groaned and wriggled against his hand, trying to guide his fingers where she wanted them.

“Permission to speak freely, Sir?”

“Granted,” he responded, still lazily stroking her slit.

“You’re a tease, Sir.” Hawthorne thought this little bit of insubordination would earn her another spanking but he just chuckled, that deep rumble that made her stomach do flips. He  dipped a finger into her tight channel, then another. She cried out and arched against him.

“Is that what you want?” He drew his fingers out slowly before pushing them back in, setting a leisurely pace.

“Yes!” She gasped in response. She pulled her knees closer to him to push her hips up, giving him better access. “Yes, Sir.” She corrected herself, not wanting this to stop. He fucked her with his fingers, using steady, languid strokes. He gave another one of those chuckles when she moaned as he pressed down on that most sensitive spot inside her.

“Like I said: eager little slut,” he growled, before dropping his lips to her ass, kissing and biting the soft flesh there. He brought his thumb down to work her clit, while keeping his fingers buried inside her.

“Yes, Sir, I am,” she moaned. She would have agreed to anything he said at this point. She could feel her desire building inexorably, her muscles bearing down on his fingers. “Fuck me.”

“Later,” Zavala replied brightly. He pulled his fingers out, hooked them in her panties and pulled them down and off her legs. He used them to wipe his hand before tossing them unceremoniously on the floor.

“What?” Hawthorne exclaimed, feeling bereft. Her can’t leave her like that, can he? He can’t just leave her on the edge, trembling and aching for release?

“Let’s get started, shall we?”

“We haven’t started yet? So what was that?” She gasped in surprise and pain when Zavala responded with three harsh spanks.

“More than you deserve, that’s what that was.”

“I’m sorry, Sir.” The apology is barely more than a whisper. Hawthorne doesn’t know what to make of the sensations he’s eliciting in her. Those spanks hurt, for sure, but her clit twinged with an answering throb afterwards.

Zavala placed the file in front of her, open at the first page. “Start at the beginning. Show me how sorry you are for all these misdemeanours, and maybe I can see to getting your record expunged. Clean slate. How does that sound?”

“You want me to read this out?” She sighed, propping the file up against the arm of the couch. “Vandalism.”

“What did you do?”

“I cut through a chain link fence.” Hawthorne answered, unable to disguise her irritation at this pantomime.

“Be specific.” Zavala’s voice dropped low, to that cadence that served to both warn and arouse.

“I wanted to get out of a safe zone.” This admission was met with a hard slap on her ass. She clenched her fist and pressed it against her lips, determined not to cry out.

“What do you think cutting the Safe Zone fence did to the Safe Zone?” He asked, while Hawthorne gasped, uhmed and spluttered. Her hesitation prompted another spanking.

“You made the Safe Zone unsafe. Come on Hawthorne, concentrate, this isn’t hard. Next.”

“Petty larceny.”

“Go on.”

“I…” She twisted awkwardly, trying to make eye contact. “Sir? Are you really going to make me go through all these?”

“Yes,” Zavala replied impatiently. “I thought we’d already established that, stop wasting my time.”

Hawthorne closed her eyes and sighed, biting the bullet. “Well Sir, it’s like this: I stole the bolt cutters I used to cut the hole in the fence.” She felt him tense up underneath her. Was he laughing? He cleared his throat and relaxed again. Hawthorne took some small measure of satisfaction that her past exploits had managed to upset his composure.

“I know, Sir, I _know_.” She stated, with exaggerated sincerity. “Stealing is  _wrong_.” Zavala immediately brought his hand down on her, causing her to hiss in pain.

“That was for the stealing.” Smack! “That was for your lack of respect for property.” Smack! That was for putting people in danger.”

He removed his hand and let it hover for a moment. Hawthorne lay quivering and silent. Her body gave a sudden jerk and she whimpered when she thought the next slap was coming, but it never arrived. She began to think that the anticipation was worse than the actual slap. Just as she let her body relax, her skin erupted in pain again when he finally let his hand fall again. She couldn’t help crying out this time.

“And that was for the sarcasm.”

Hawthorne slumped forward, resting her cheek against her hands. She shut her eyes, concentrating on the sensations, that sharp pain that almost immediately gave way to tingling heat. But the heat wasn’t just in her skin, it seemed to spread through her belly, radiating down to her pussy. She clamped her thighs together, and wriggled against Zavala’s thighs, trying to create a frisson that would bring some relief to her throbbing sex.

“I’m sorry, Sir. It won’t happen again. None of it.” She mumbled, her speech slightly muffled by her hand.

“Good girl.” He started caressing her again, prompting an appreciative purr from her. This mix of harshness and tenderness was fogging her mind. “Come now, we’ve a lot to get through.”

Hawthorne groaned and propped herself back up on her elbows. She took a deep breath to compose herself before reading on.

“Breaking and entering,” she read out in between heavy pants. She didn’t wait for prompting before elaborating on the story. “The militia confiscated my rifle, Sir. I wanted it back.”

“And why did they confiscate it?” Zavala’s tone was gentle, as was his touch when he trailed a thumbnail down the length of her spine. She whimpered with pleasure but she wouldn’t let herself relax, oh no, not again. She didn’t trust the velvet-voiced bastard.

“I was, and I quote, ‘discharging the weapon in unsafe location.’ And…” She pursed her lips, fighting back a smile. He couldn’t see her expression from this angle but she didn’t want to risk any indication that she found this funny. “And I didn’t have a license for it.” She fisted both hands in the throw covering the couch, and screwed her eyes shut. She was bracing herself what she knew was coming next but had to admit, there was a part of her that was looking forward to it. She threw her head back and moaned loudly when the blow eventually came.

“That was very irresponsible, Hawthorne”

“Yes Sir, very irresponsible,” she replied in a hoarsely, revelling in the feeling of pain, then warmth spreading through her body.

“You’re not enjoying this, are you?”

“Oh _no_  Sir,” she panted heavily and suppressed laughter.

“You know I’ve been going easy on you, right?”

She was silent for what seemed like an eternity before saying, “I don’t want you going easy. I’m not delicate.”

“It’ll hurt,” He warned.

She turned her head towards him as best she could from this angle, and smirked.

“It’s worth it.”

“On your own head be it, “ Zavala stated. “What’s next?”

“Uh…” She fumbled with the pages, her heart hammering in her chest.

“Hurry up, Hawthorne, this is your past, it shouldn’t be that hard to remember.”

Hawthorne licked her lips her, mouth suddenly feeling very dry. She took a breath, then hesitated, before speaking.

“Wilful fire raising.”

“I beg your pardon?” Zavala asked after brief silence.

“Okay,” Hawthorne gesticulated and pointed, “THIS one was an accident.” Zavala retaliated by catching both her wrists and pinning them behind her back. He used one large hand to hold her arms in place leaving one free for the obvious.

“Did you nearly burn down my City?” His voice is raised for the first time during this little game.

“No!” She protested. “I’m telling you it was an accident I just- OW!” He was spanking her again, no tantalising pauses this time. It was relentless, one after the other.

“You were being irresponsible again, weren’t you?”

“No!” She gasped. She was blushing furiously, feeling tears pricking at her eyes. She was a survivor, she shouldn’t be crying over something as stupid as a little spanking. That would be humiliating. “I was right on the outskirts, I was practicing bushcraf- Ah!” She cried out as the onslaught started again. She bit her lip to clamp down on her noise, quelling it to a whimper but those tears would not be contained. Yes, this was humiliating.

_It’s supposed to be, you idiot_ , said a little voice at the back of her mind.  _That’s the whole the point, go with it_. She took a deep breath, acutely aware that her breath was starting to come in undignified hiccoughs. She wanted desperately to wipe her eyes but her arms were still pinned behind her back and he was so much stronger than her.

“Are you all right?” His voice has returned to its usual soft timbre and she felt his grip on her wrists soften.

“I’m fine.” She growled back at him, “Sir.”

“We can stop if it’s too much.”

“I know the safeword, Sir.” She panted hard, feeling anger and determination overcoming her embarrassment. There were a few seconds of quiet, interrupted only by the sound of Hawthorne’s breathing. She felt his free hand gently trailing down her back again, then his lips following the path of his fingers. Hawthorne let out a breathy laugh even as her eyes brimmed with tears.

“Something funny?” Zavala asked, lifting his head just after dropping a few kisses on the tender skin of her buttocks.

“If only people knew,” she began, still laughing. “Commander Zavala is an ass-man.”

“Well yours is a very pleasing shade of pink right now…” He murmured appreciatively, running his hand over the swell of her ass, before dipping his middle finger into her wetness. “You’re sure you’re okay to keep going?”

“Mm-hmm,” Hawthorne purred, pushing back against his hand. “I mean, yes Sir.”

“Very well. Keep going then.”

“I can’t read from this position Sir.” Hawthorne explained, her face pressed into the couch, her tears leaving an unmistakable wet patch on the throw. Zavala sighed and whipped the file out from in front of her face.

“Impersonating…” He stopped and openly laughed, “Seriously? Impersonating a Militia Officer?”

“It’s easier to get outside the City walls if you’re in uniform.” He slapped her again, hard and she yelped, not bothering to disguise her pain.

“If you wanted to get out of the city so badly why not sign up as a scavenger? Dead Orbit are always looking for good scavengers.”

“With all due respect, _Sir_?” She was nearly sobbing, “Screw Dead Orbit, they’re cowards.”

“I can’t disagree with that, to be fair. Let’s move on. Ah.” There was a pregnant pause. “Assault.”

Hawthorne laughed mirthlessly. “Which one?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes.”

“It says here that you accosted someone for jumping the line in a soup kitchen.”

“I’d been having a bad day.” She wasn’t shocked when the slaps came but she made no attempt to quell her tears this time, she knew he could see how much this was hurting her. This was the whole point of the exercise after all; pain bundled up pleasure, hurt making the tenderness all the sweeter.

“I’m sorry,” she forced the words out in between undignified sobs and hiccups. “I shouldn’t have done that, I lost my temper, I’ve got a temper, I’m sorry Sir,” she babbled.

“I believe you.” Zavala ran his fingertips ever so lightly over her back. She winced when he reached her ass but also found herself pushing her hips up towards his hand, craving his touch be it violent or gentle. He released her wrists and she gingerly brought her arms back round onto the seat cushion in front of her. She rested her forehead on her hands, taking ever deeper breaths in an attempt to end this crying jag. She felt him brushing her hair back from her face, only then realising that it was stuck to her cheeks. He shushed her, telling that she was all right.

“Why did you stop?” She asked in a querulous voice.

“You’ve had enough.”

“No!” She cried, “We’re not finished.”

“You’re done.” Zavala’s tone was gentle there was something in it that said he would not brook argument.

“I can keep going, I’m okay.” She mumbled against her hand.

“We’re done, Suraya.”

“No…” She felt tears welling in her eyes again. She could take the pain, she could take him picking through the worst parts of her past but not failure. She wouldn’t be a failure. “We have to finish.”

“Come here…” He gently pulled her up off his lap, and wrapped his arms around her. She curled willingly into his arms and buried her face in his chest. He dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “How do you feel?”

“I don’t know,” she answered, her breathing gradually slowing, “Sore.” She laughed breathlessly, but with tears still lingering on the edge of her mirth. “My fault for for agreeing to be spanked by a Titan I guess.”

“There’ll be no fist of havoc in any of our sessions, I promise you that.” He gently caressed her skin, running one hand up and down her back while the other stroked her hair. She shivered, suddenly acutely aware that he could break her in half if he wanted, yet here she was, hiding her tear-stained face in his chest, with no fear whatsoever.  _Is this trust_? she mused to herself. _Is this what trust feels like?_

“What else?” He placed a finger under her chin and tipped her face up to look at him. “Tell me what you’re feeling.”

“I…I don’t know it’s weird.”

“Try me,” he replied, brushing the last of her tears away with his thumbs.

“It hurt but it felt good too, like…like the hurt made the pleasure more intense and…” she swallowed hard and sat up, wrapping her arms around his neck. She rested her forehead against his and whispered, “I was close, Zavala, you brought me so close, so many times.”

He pulled her into his lap and she straddled him eagerly. He brushed his fingertips up her thighs, then her waist until her found her bra strap. He unhooked it, slipped it off her arms and discarded it.

“Do you still need to come?” He asked tenderly. He started caressing her breasts, running his fingers along the sides and underneath, prompting a whimper from her. She started rocking her hips, grinding herself against him.

She managed to force out a breathy, “Yes,” then yelped in surprise when he pinched both her nipples, hard.

“Yes, what?”

She laughed softly, before responding in a demur voice, “Yes Sir.”

“Good girl,” Zavala replied. Normally, if someone called Hawthorne ‘girl,’ it would likely earn her another assault charge but there was something about the way he said it, the words went straight to her sex.

“Please…” She figured he might enjoy hearing her beg and when he took one of her hard nipples in his mouth, she found that she did too. “Please make me come, Sir.”

“I can’t hear you,” he teased, before he switched to her other breast, gently nibbling and suckling.

“Please Sir, I need to come,” she said, a little louder. His hands roamed around her body, brushing against her sides, across her belly, her thighs, everywhere except where she wanted.  “Please,” she repeated, drawing the syllable out into a long keening sound. Her pleading was finally rewarded when she felt two thick fingers slide easily inside her. “Thank you, Sir,” she groaned, before devolving into incoherent moans when he began moving his fingers. He pressed against her most sensitive spot, then relaxed, then pushed again in a beckoning motion.

“Traveler above, you’re wet…” Zavala marveled, the sound of his voice sending waves of pleasure through her, just as certainly as his fingers did.

“Yes Sir,” she answered, only managing a whimper as he pressed his thumb against her clit. She pushed against him, finding a rhythm that complimented his. I must look a mess, she thought; grinding desperately against him, eyes closed, hair in disarray, skin flushed and damp from tears and sweat. She forced her eyes open and he found his gaze was fixed on her, looking at her like she was the most incredible sight in the solar system. She kissed him hungrily, then grabbed and steadied herself against his shoulders. Zavala broke the kiss and cupped her face with his free hand, before tracing her kiss-swollen lips with his thumb. He still looked utterly enthralled with her.

“Are you close, sweetheart?” He asked softly.

Hawthorne nodded vigorously, finding her powers of speech had completely deserted her. She bore down on him, feeling more heat pool in her sex. It wouldn’t be much longer.

“Come for me.”  Zavala’s whispered entreaty was all it took for her orgasm to finally wash over her. She threw her head back and cried out as she felt waves of pleasure radiate through her body; up her spine, along her arms to her fingers, down her trembling legs all the way to her curled toes. Zavala carried on curling his fingers against that little bundle of nerves inside her, prolonging the sensations. She moaned in time with his thrusts, until she finally collapsed against him, resting her forehead on his shoulder. He finally relented and pulled his hand away from her, giving her a few moments to recover before he spoke again.

“Worth the wait?”

“ _So_  worth it,” she answered, with a breathy laugh. “Oh boy…” she sighed, sitting back a little and running her fingers through her hair..

“That was beautiful.” Hawthorne looked at him with a start when he said this. He sounded sincere but then he always sounded sincere.

“Shut up.” She swiped a hand down her face, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks again.

“Excuse me?” He cocked his head to the side frowned up at her.

“Shut up, _Sir_.”

“Uh,” he chuckled, “That’s not what I was getting at.”

Hawthorne didn’t answer, choosing instead to allow her hands to drift down to his waistband. She started undoing the button of his trousers in lieu of responding to his compliment.

“You must be feeling left out, Sir.” She locked her eyes with his and smirked at him. She couldn’t help but notice the sigh of relief as his erection was freed from its confines. She wrapped her hand around his length and began pumping slowly. Her smirk gave way to a full smile when he groaned and tipped his head back to rest on the couch cushion behind him. “Where do you want me this time, Sir?”

He patted the seat beside him and panted, “Here. I want to see you.”

She clambered off him and sat on the adjacent seat, while he knelt on the floor in front of her. He took her by her hips and yanked her forwards to the edge of the couch, causing her to slip into a lying position. He rubbed the head of his cock up and down her swollen sex a few times before giving into the temptation to ease slowly inside her. He gave a long, grateful sigh as her wet heat enveloped him, inch by agonising inch.

“Worth the wait, Sir?” She tensed her muscles around him as hard as she could, and grinned wickedly up at him as she did so.

“Oh…fuck…” he gasped, mouth open and brows knotted.

Hawthorne tutted playfully and chided him, “Sir, please. Language.”

Zavala responded by withdrawing almost completely before slamming back into her roughly. She gasped in a combination of surprise and pleasure.

“Don’t push your luck, Hawthorne,” he growled.

He started rocking into her in a steady rhythm. Her eyes rolled back in her head as he fucked her slowly but forcefully. She was still sensitive from her climax and each thrust was met by a fluttering sensation in the pit of her stomach. She pulled her knees back, wrapped her legs around him and suddenly realised how silly she had been to feel embarrassed at disrobing while he was still fully clothed. She moaned encouragement to him and revelled in the contrasting textures; rough cloth against her bare skin, the seams of his clothing pressing against her. It make her feel even more naked, more exposed. It felt good. He took hold of her hips and picked up the pace a little, while she locked her ankles behind him, pulling him towards her, matching him thrust for thrust.

She closed her eyes, focussing on the pleasure coursing through her and retreated to a simple place in her mind, where nothing else mattered but how he was making her feel. All her anxieties about whether the City was the right place for her, whether she was abandoning the Farm along her principles, all that disappeared. All that mattered right then, in that moment, was the way his cock hit new centres of pleasure inside her, the sensation of her clit being triggered again, the way he’d desperately moaned her name when she reached down to stroke herself. And it was her name. Suraya. Not Hawthorne, Suraya.  She liked that. He’d slipped out of character for a  moment, he wasn’t Sir, or the Commander then, he was just Zavala. Yes, she liked that a lot but wouldn’t dwell on what it might mean. Not right now.

He let one hand glide up her body, pausing to caress her breasts. She cried out and arched off the couch when he lightly pinched a nipple. “I’m going to come again,” she announced in a hoarse voice. His hand drifted higher and came to rest on her exposed throat. For a second she wondered if he was going to apply pressure but he moved on. That particular activity hadn’t been discussed or okayed but she realised that when she felt his fingers grasp her neck, she wouldn’t have minded if he’d squeezed. She had an absolute belief that he  wouldn’t hurt her and the thrill it sparked within her was undeniable.  Next time, maybe (and she was resolute that there would indeed be a next time).

She held one of his hands in hers and guided it to her lips. She looked up at him, holding his gaze with an intense stare and took one of his fingers in her mouth. She sucked greedily, tasting herself on him. The effect on Zavala was immediate, He drove into her faster and faster. He was close, his mouth was clamped shut, his lips in a thin line and the occasional animalistic grunt escaping him now and then.

Hawthorne knew she was supposed to be submitting but she felt so very powerful in that moment. Serious, unflappable Zavala so close to coming inside her, all because of a little oral attention and a look from her. She felt her own climax approach in return, that delicious heat building and building. She felt her pussy ripple and clench around him, while she continued to furiously work her clit. She pulled his hand free of her mouth and rolled her head backwards as she felt the beginnings of her orgasm wash over her.

“Oh god…” She said in a low, desperate voice before crying out more loudly when she reached her peak. It was something between a moan and a scream while her head thrashed to the side, sending her hair flying over her face.

Zavala wasn’t far behind, her climax triggering his own. He slammed into her with a throaty cry as his orgasm ripped through him. He managed a few more hard thrusts before collapsing forwards, supporting himself on the back of the couch. They remained that way for a few countless moments, the harsh sound of their breathing the only thing breaking the silence.

“Mm…” Hawthorne purred appreciatively, feeling his cock twitch inside her in the aftershocks of his climax. He eventually pulled back a little and gently pushed her hair away from her face. She covered her forehead with her hand and laughed.

“What’s funny?” He asked as he tenderly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“We came together just then.” She shot him a self-satisfied grin. “We’re  _very_ good at this.”

He smiled softly. “If something’s worth doing, it’s doing well, don’t you agree?”

“Absolutely, Commander.” She replied before framing his face with her hands and bringing his lips to meet hers.


End file.
